


Alpha to Alpha

by ButtersMeUp



Series: Shots & Charades [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Clothed Sex, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M, Masochism, Mild Painplay, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 20:35:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14089128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtersMeUp/pseuds/ButtersMeUp
Summary: “I’m not—touching you—like this."“Come on, it’s just little old me.”“It isn’t done.”“Neither is spending the night with a mass murderer but you ticked that one off the list readily enough."Joker had enjoyed getting to know the Omega who lived in Bruce Wayne's basement. But tonight, he's snaring a Bat; one whose Alpha scent he's been smelling on the air ever since his very first laugh.





	Alpha to Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: I do not partake in these kinks myself and none of what's written here should be taken to represent anyone who's actually into painplay or masochism, etc.
> 
> This is part 2 of a series but should be readable as a standalone.

Joker licked his lips and laughed aloud when the scent hit him—it was animal and musky, and one of the most familiar smells that his nose could identify.

It was the Batman, smelling of kevlar, sweat and a hint of blood, and the singular, oppressive stench of Alpha. Joker heaved it in, his nostrils flaring, and felt his own Alpha hormones kick into gear. It might be deviant, the way his cock twitched with interest in his trousers while his instincts told him to bunch his shoulders, itching for a fight, but he was long past caring. He wasn’t sure he’d ever cared—not when that scent was attached to the most alluring creature to ever grace Gotham’s skyline.

He laughed again, just so the Bat wouldn’t forget about him, and folded himself back into the shadows of the abandoned warehouse. He’d been chased here after his attempt to let off Joker Toxin in the new children’s aquarium on opening night, but his route had not been accidental. This was a dark corner of Gotham, but the building he’d scoped out was the tallest around, and afforded a crystal clear view of the gothic cityscape that made up their home.

This was a gift for his beloved, but also for himself. He was tired of having to sneak across the countryside to Wayne Manor during the clockwork, limited window within which he’d been allowed to do so.

For he’d been having semi-regular rendezvous with the Batman for a few months now, ever since the vigilante had strapped him to a table and proceeded to have his wicked way with him—and if Joker had been at liberty to tell anyone about it, he would have used those words exactly. But he was not at liberty because he was guarding what might be the Bat’s biggest secret (both of them, if you counted his secret identity):

The Batman was an Omega.

And Joker had been able to experience every mewling inch of that side of him in the few trysts they’d had since that reveal. He’d seen his Bat bent in half, filled to the brim, choking, twisting, screaming and melting into a sack of bones and he’d loved every second of it.

He’d debated outing the vigilante—as Bruce Wayne; as an Omega: either would do—but he’d refrained. Truth was, the experience was still fresh and new, and broken up by the excitement of having to avoid various members of Batman’s battery of birds and bats and other masked identities. God knows how he kept his predicament from the butler. He may have admitted to the heats and how the hormones he used to hide his status were losing efficacy, but he sure as hell would never admit to letting Joker into the manor sans handcuffs.

 _Sometimes_ sans handcuffs.

Joker smiled to himself. That was fine. He’d always felt like the B-man’s dirty little secret—ever since he’d taken that tumble into the green, bubbling drink at Ace Chemicals.

But it was time for a change, and he’d been infatuated with the Bat for longer than he’d known the man was an Omega.

And so he was here, enjoying how the cool night air grew dark and cloying the closer his predator approached.

He’d managed to give Harley the slip, too, an adventure which had fortuitously gone off without a hitch. Involving Poison Ivy in their plan had been a stroke of genius in that regard.

It didn’t take long for the Batman’s presence to draw close, and Joker threaded through the abandoned corridors and walkways, laughing all the way. The moonlight cut through the Gotham smog in thick slices, casting shafts of light across the rotting wood and steel beams for him to duck in and out of for dramatic effect.

The Batman was light on his feet, as always, but Joker manoeuvred them round and round the warehouse until he arrived at the final destination—a room with a view.

He could sense the Batman closing in, just barely overhearing the brush of a cape over the floorboards and the _thunk_ of a boot.

He situated himself beside the door, out of sight, and when the Bat finally crossed the threshold he launched.

He caught the taller man around the neck, wrenching him sideways as he zoomed past. Off-balance, the vigilante could do little more than parry when Joker sliced back at him with a knife he’d kept stuffed into his belt.

Joker backed off, coming in low to try for the seam in the kevlar above the Bat’s knee, but the vigilante read his movement, bringing said knee up in a swift kick. He only just managed to dodge it, avoiding losing his teeth to the kneepad. He was gonna need his smile for later—couldn’t seduce a vigilante without it.

They ducked and swerved around each other, and Joker’s blood sang. There was nothing like going toe-to-toe with his Bat when they were both exuding such raw, untempered aggression. There was no holding back: sweat went flying, their muscles worked to the extreme, the Batman’s mouth was set in a grim line of masculine determination—and Joker’s cock was harder than stone.

Every punch sent his feverish arousal spiralling higher; every grunt went straight to his groin. Moving through the pheromones that lay thick in the air was like swimming through molasses, and Joker did his best to breathe in as much of it as possible. He’d been called disgusting for finding such pleasure in something so violent, so challenging, but he almost preferred this to crushing the Batman down into the bedsheets once a month. Almost.

At one point, he thought he had the upper hand. He pulled the Batman’s arm back at a wrong angle and kicked sharply at his knee, dumping him on the wooden floor in a heap. But just when his weight had settled over the other man, the vigilante tipped them, slamming Joker down into the floor and pinning him with a knee across his abdomen and his hands over his wrists.

Their breaths heaved in unison, Joker straining up against his predator—whether to butt his head against the cowl or kiss it even he wasn’t sure.

“Nice to see you, lover,” Joker murmured, and the answering hiss of disgust made his heart soar.

The Batman didn’t let go of him, despite his displeasure. “Are you going to come quietly?”

“Oh, come on, don’t make me break out _that_ old line, Bats. You _know_ I never--” A swift slap across the mouth cut him off mid-sentence, but he grinned through the sting. He couldn’t thrust up against the vigilante in retaliation, so he settled for a muted roll of his body, trusting it would be enough to punctuate his point.

The Batman cursed, shaking his head and looking away towards the opposite wall, where the city was visible thanks to the entire top half of the wall being missing. He saw the vigilante lean upwards despite himself, drawn to the view.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The Batman’s eyes snapped back down to his, and his mouth set itself into a thin line. “Roll over so I can cuff you.”

“Ooh, kinky.” But Joker was having none of it. He twisted, dislodging the knee over his chest and shimmying just enough to hook a leg around the Bat’s. The vigilante froze, still pinning him by his wrists, but their faces were closer now, breaths just mingling. Joker batted his eyelashes. “But I can think of some much better uses of our time.”

Even with his eyes cloaked in whatever high-tech contact lenses the superheroes used these days, Batman’s eye-roll was obvious. “Not interested.” Abruptly, he released the Joker, pushing his body away completely and crossing over to the half-demolished wall.

Joker didn’t run. Instead he lay there, head rolled around to watch the Bat as he stood silhouetted against the moon. He looked good like this—back straight, neck pushed forward in a classic, brooding posture. His cape rippled faintly in the breeze and Joker took two seconds to admire it before he cursed it for blocking his view of the Batman’s ass in tight kevlar.

But he could work with this. The Bat would just need some softening up.

He reached up with his gloved hand, undoing the first button on his dress shirt. “Batsy, come on.” Another button popped open. “You don’t complain when I come to the manor.” The other man’s muscles tensed. Joker popped another button. “So why worry now?”

“Stop talking.”

 _Pop_. “I brought you here on purpose.”

“Joker…”

“There’s nothing like fucking on a rooftop.” _Pop_. “But of course, you’d know that.”

“Excuse me?” The Batman turned, his white eyes reduced to slits.

Joker affected an innocent expression just as the final button slid through the hole. He rolled just slightly, letting his shirt fall open. “You mean you _didn’t_ bring Selina up here?”

The vigilante’s head jerked away. “No.”

“Joke’s on you. I woulda.”

“Would you just be quiet? Or should I leave you at Gotham PD for a few hours before I take you to Arkham?”

The threat was clear. Some of the guys at the police station liked to bruise up their tenants before they shipped them off. It was nothing Joker hadn’t put up with before (and it was easier to escape when people mistakenly thought you were too beaten to move).

So Joker replied snidely, his lip curled. “Make me.” And there it was: another eyeroll. He was on fire tonight. “That sounds suspiciously like you aren’t planning on turning me in just yet.”

The Bat finally turned to face him fully, bravely choosing to lean back against the wooden half-wall. “It _is_ a nice view.”

Joker’s lips pulled back with glee. “Right?” He pushed up from the floor, sidling over to the vigilante in his best cartoonish creep. “It’ll look even better when you’re hanging over that wall with another body wrapped around you.”

“You are _not_ penetrating me.”

“Oh, no! Of course not. You’re a big, scary Alpha again,” he sneered. He jabbed a finger into the Batman’s chest. “It wouldn’t do for you to be on the _receiving_ end, would it? …So what, your magic shots start working again?”

The Bat’s eyes flicked away. “I upped the dosage. They work fine most of the time.”

“Just not when your ass turns into a fire hydrant.”

“ _Joker_.”

“What? You were _dripping_.”

A hand shot up to clasp around Joker’s throat and he grinned, leaning into the touch. He’d hoped for this. The stick in the Bat’s ass was jammed up so far that it could only be dislodged by a hard yank, and pissing him off was the only way he’d ever found of making the man lose control.

“I’m not—touching you—like this,” the Bat growled, tightening his fingers incrementally further with each word.

“Come on, it’s just little old me.”

“It isn’t _done_.”

“Neither is fucking a mass murderer but you ticked that one off the list readily enough,” Joker rasped, his grin widening.

The vigilante’s head lowered, the pinpricks of his eyes just visible against his dark cowl as he glared. Tension crackled through his larger frame; a special kind of anger that Joker prided himself on being the only one capable of unlocking.

He lifted his leg, sliding it gently along the Bat’s until his thigh was wedged firmly in the gap between them, his hips fitted neatly against the kevlar. He smiled and rubbed his erection against the rough material. Who needed subtlety, after all?

Not the Batman, apparently. He shoved Joker’s body away in perfect disgust, releasing his neck so he could snatch up a wrist and twist it violently back behind him. They shuffled in place as Joker put up some rudimentary resistance, but soon he was doubled over the half-wall with his torso hanging out in the open air—right where he’d wanted to be.

“That’s it! You’re getting it now!” he crowed.

“I’m _cuffing_ you now.”

Joker heard the familiar jangle of the police-grade cuffs as Batman pulled them from whatever secret pouch on his belt had housed them. He felt the chill of the metal as it bit into his skin, fastening his wrists together at the small of his back.

He pushed back with his ass until he found the armoured plates of the Bat’s groin. He was mildly disappointed. As good as the kevlar suit felt when it was splitting his face open, it really wasn’t nearly as fun when he was trying to coax certain parts of the vigilante’s anatomy to life.

So he spread his legs and ground himself forward onto the wood instead, gasping as the old wood rasped against his clothed cock. The wind up this high was stronger when you had half your body outside of the building, and it whipped against his exposed chest, hardening his nipples. He wiggled his ass a little.

“Come _on_ , Batsy. No one has to know.” He peered over his shoulder. “I know you get a kick out of the ol’ ‘cuff-em-and-rough-em’ routine. Surely you’ve wondered what _else_ you could get away with?”

The Batman didn’t respond, just stared at Joker with that perfectly blank look, the picture of stoicism. “Ignoring how many ethics violations that would entail,” he finally said, almost conversationally. “You’re _really_ trying tonight.”

Joker raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying I don’t always put in 100% effort with you, Batsy? Because that hurts. I take the prospect of leading you to damnation very seriously.”

 _This close_ to another eyeroll. Well, you win some, you lose some.

But the Batman was reaching out, his tough, armoured fingers splaying gently over Joker’s backside, and his heart leapt. He pushed back eagerly, enjoying the bite of the gauntlets, and was rewarded with a soft exhalation from his Bat.

But this was too easy. He needed to spice things up a little.

Without warning, Joker twisted around, trusting the half wall to take his weight as he leaned back against it. He brought his legs up, lightning fast, wrapping them tightly around the Batman’s waist like a vice and giggling.

The Bat backed away on instinct, but this was where those frolics around the gym with Harley would finally make themselves useful. Joker swung his torso upwards, his stomach muscles burning as he forced himself up to Batman’s level. And once he made it there, he kept going, heaving his entire weight into the Bat’s shoulder and knocking him off-balance. They landed in a heap on the floor, and although Joker’s ankle was caught painfully between them and the floor, he counted it as a win.

The Bat lay stunned beneath him for a few seconds, his white eyes wide, but just as Joker began to gain purchase with his feet, they reversed positions again. The Batman grunted loudly, tipping Joker over onto his back and lunging forward with an open hand.

A swift kick to the gut and Joker was wriggling out from under the vigilante, his blood singing. It was harder to balance with his wrists still bound, but he managed to rise to his feet just seconds ahead of the Bat. He dodged two swift punches, his hair whipping against his face, and just barely sidestepped the large boot that scooted out to trip him. He could feel the Bat’s frustration in the air—in the deep, musky scent that only grew stronger between them as they sweated and growled.

He blew out a short, sharp raspberry and spun on his heel, but the delay afforded the Batman just enough time to tackle him around the waist, and Joker went down laughing.

They landed in a heap, with Joker’s face to the floor and the Bat’s weight settled squarely on top of him, an arm around his waist. Joker scrabbled against the kevlar with his fingers in a show of resistance, but he didn’t waste any time in shoving himself back into the Bat, prodding his bony ass against the armoured codpiece.

He was just devising yet another way to drag this out when he felt a heaving breath against his hairline, and then a hot mouth was scraping over the nape of neck, trailing wetly over the muscle of his shoulder.

He groaned long and low, pleased. “Finally!” he snapped, but the Bat just clasped his bound wrists in one hand, jerking his arms up at a wrong angle almost hard enough to make him yelp. The other hand hooked swiftly into the waistband of his trousers, yanking them down to expose Joker’s white skin to the chilly air.

Joker hissed, his grin widening. For _years_ he’d been trying to make this happen; making snide remarks, taunting and teasing, appealing to whatever baser instinct he could glimpse roiling behind the white eyes. Feeling the Bat’s lips drag hotly over his ass made him sigh with ecstasy.

He pressed back into the touch, directing the passage of the vigilante’s tongue over his skin. He earned a sharp yank of his wrists for that, and felt teeth graze close to his hole.

“Come on,” he grumbled, but the smile on his face was stuck firmly in place, his eyes watering with anticipation. The Batman roughly flipped him over, dragging him down and settling his full weight across Joker’s chest. The position made his shoulders ache, his hands now cuffed between him and the floor, but the pain sharpened Joker’s senses, allowing him to focus on everything in acute detail.

The Bat’s fingers hit a series of clasps around his waist, and then the hard codpiece of his suit came away, revealing black fabric underneath. Joker eyed the bulge there, but didn’t have to imagine what it looked like for long—the Bat drew himself out with one quick movement, revealing a cock already leaking precum. The man was impressively endowed for an Omega, enough for the motion of his hand running along it to mesmerise Joker at once.

Joker narrowed his eyes at the drop of moisture crowning the head of the Batman’s cock. “So are you gushing in the backdoor as well?”

The Batman glared. “Stop talking and get on with it. This is the only lube you’re getting.”

It sounded tough, but he could see the hint of discomfort in the set of the Bat’s jaw. The vigilante was really trying now; the least Joker could do was play along. The man was doing it for his benefit, after all.

His mouth opened wetly, allowing the Bat to enter him. The vigilante didn’t start slow, shoving himself deep down until the head was teasing Joker’s gag reflex and pushing beyond. He choked once, but swallowed through it, and before long the Bat took up a regular rhythm, sliding easily down the back of Joker’s throat.

He wasn’t exactly practised at this, but he had a knack for suffering only rivalled by the Bat himself. The smell of Alpha and sweat and Batman filled his nostrils, threatening to choke him worse than the intruding cock and he revelled in it. His jaw slackened to grant the vigilante better access, but all the while, the corners of his mouth stayed upturned and smiling.

He only threatened to bite down once, and the furious tug on his hair that he received for it made him chuckle deep in his throat. The Bat looked momentarily annoyed—no doubt rather at losing his self-control than at Joker—but he was soon distracted by the laughter as it vibrated through him. He choked down a grunt, suddenly placing a hand over Joker’s face and pulling back.

Joker whined as the cock slipped from his lips, and peeked up at the Bat through his fingers. The vigilante was breathing heavily, his white eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to rein in his pleasure. He glanced at Joker.

“Turn over.”

Joker was happy to oblige, rolling over so his face and knees touched the floor and thrusting his ass out towards his prize. The Bat didn’t hesitate in kneading the pale skin with gloved fingers and biting a hickey into the flesh. Soon, he pulled back. He heard the unmistakable click of one of the pouches opening on his utility belt, and the crinkle of plastic. Joker rolled his eyes. Always with the _condoms_ …

But then he heard the sounds repeat themselves, and frowned. _What on Earth…?_

Something cold and slick made contact with his asshole, making him jump.

Joker shuddered. “I thought you said no more lube?” he griped as one thick finger pushed into him.

“I lied.”

Joker grimaced, but the gesture was fond. “You know, you’re rather _terrible_ at this whole Alpha thing.”

“Not all Alphas are like _you_ , Joker,” the Bat muttered, thrusting deeper. “…Besides, I kept the gloves on for you.”

Joker laughed. He _was_ thankful for that, he had to admit. The rough material rasped at his walls, giving him that careful mix of pleasure and discomfort that he craved as another finger joined the first. “Thanks, doll.”

“Anytime.”

The Bat froze as Joker whipped around, wiggling his eyebrows. “ _Anytime_?”

“No.”

A cackle bubbled up from the Joker’s throat and he thrust back. “Come on, come _on_.”

The Batman relented, pulling his fingers free with a wet pop. Joker gasped as he clamped down on nothing, his insides trembling. The gloves had widened the intruding digits enough that even without a third, his ass felt stretched and loose.

The sudden emptiness was exquisite. Sure, he’d grown to love fucking Bruce Wayne into the sheets in his huge manor, but this was something he’d anticipated for so long that fulfilling it threatened to make his heart skip straight out of his chest.

They’d been dancing to the same boring old number for so many years now. It was a tune all their own, sure: others liked to think they could cut in, but making Harvey give in to his other half had lost its dazzle and corrupting an already-corrupt Harley had gone stale. And Joker knew the Bat never had as much fun when Croc or Ivy tried to take over the dance. But all dances grew tiresome nonetheless, and Joker had been waiting for the next number for a while. It was as if he stood at the ready for a tango, while the Batman still muddled through the waltz.

But with the larger man’s heavy cock lining up against Joker’s entrance, he could feel the proper music kicking in.

His own erection strained, aching for the Bat to get on with it. He took the opportunity to moan desperately and was rewarded with a noseful of something sour and alluring as the other Alpha shuddered above him. Whatever the vigilante injected himself with was good enough that Joker would never have guessed the musk didn’t belong on his body, and it certainly made the Bat react as an Alpha should. Joker could feel his own Alpha hormones thrilling through his body, making his muscles bunch with anticipation even as they readied to fight off the intrusion.

He felt the Bat’s cock twitch against him and pushed back threateningly.

“You gonna sink the shot or sit there waggling your putter around?”

He heard a deep groan—of frustration rather than desire—and arched his back as the larger man leaned over him, bringing his lips close to the Joker’s ear.

“What did I say about talking?” the Bat murmured, bringing a hand up to squeeze Joker’s bound wrists tightly.

“Oh dear me, I seem to have forgotten. You do talk about talking a _lot_ , sweetpea.”

An irritated grunt, and Joker’s arms were wrenched upwards again.

“I said, ‘shut up’.” The growl seemed to rumble down through the Bat’s chest into Joker’s shoulder blades, making him shiver.

“And I believe _I_ said, ‘ _Make me_ ’.”

The snarl that left the Batman’s mouth was almost animal as he shoved Joker’s head into the wooden floorboards. Joker’s cackle was momentarily cut off as the pseudo-Alpha sank into him to the hilt, his cock reaching further than his fingers had before and surprising a yelp out of the clown.

Joker was back in fine form within seconds, pushing greedily against the man and arching his back. The Bat kept a firm grip on Joker’s cuffed wrists as he drew himself up straight, using them to leverage Joker into the floor.

The first thrust was swift, the Batman pulling back until he was almost free of the Joker before slamming back home. More deep thrusts soon followed, and Joker’s laughter came out as a wheeze every time the vigilante’s hips slapped against his ass.

It wasn’t an easy fuck, but Joker didn’t want it to be. He was no Omega—there would be no gush of fluid to aid the Bat’s passage. Even the lube the vigilante had insisted upon did little to relieve the strain as he was stretched too wide.

Everything about it was hard and aggressive: the pain in Joker’s shoulders; the rough gloves biting into the flesh of his ass; the Bat’s plunging, ceaseless thrusts that raked the skin of Joker’s face against the rough woodgrain. He could hear the man breathing heavily over him, his rhythmic breathing marred only occasionally by a grunt of exertion.

Joker was about to open his mouth, a barbed taunt waiting on his tongue, when a hand found his hair. He was wrenched up to look at the man above him, his body folded back on itself as the Bat continued to fuck into him. Then, the angle changed, and an involuntary moan slipped from Joker’s lips as the vigilante found that spot deep inside him that sent shocks of electricity shooting up his spine.

Dozens of quips rose to the forefront of his brain, endless reams of material with which to egg the Batman on, but all that escaped him was an inelegant groan, deep and low and amorous. The grip in his hair tightened, and the Bat’s tempo quickened. It was all Joker could do to laugh as the vigilante’s cock rasped through him, even as he plucked that bundle of nerves inside him with piston-like precision.

All at once, the Bat was coming inside him, and Joker was pushed roughly off-balance, falling forward in a heap. He felt every twitch and shake of the vigilante’s cock as he spent himself inside him, his hips pinning Joker to the floor. The Bat groaned, muffling the sound in the folds of Joker’s jacket.

But Joker still hadn’t come yet. His cock was still caught up in his trousers, trapped painfully between him and the floorboards, but he thrust weakly into the ground all the same, desperate for friction.

The Bat gasped above him, still sheathed as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

“ _Batsy_ ,” he hissed, jiggling his hips between the Bat and the floor. “Help me out here?”

The Bat grunted, almost as if he’d forgotten Joker was there, and slowly slid out of him. The action sent Joker’s nerves tingling, but it did nothing to relieve the ache between his legs. He growled impatiently when he heard the Bat removing his condom and tying it off like a balloon.

“Just _wait_.”

Joker grimaced, his brows furrowing. He tried to get back on his knees, but his muscles screamed at him. His legs had grown stiff as they fought to remain upright, and now that he’d been toppled it was difficult to convince his muscles to cooperate.

Joker’s wry chuckle was interrupted by rough hands at his hips, jerking him up again with the functional curtness of a cat hauling its kitten up by the neck. He opened his mouth to complain—just for appearance’s sake rather than any discomfort—but then a hand wormed its way into his trousers and a stubbled mouth latched onto his ass.

Two quick pumps and a seeking tongue was all it took for Joker’s orgasm to rattle through him, spilling himself all over the Bat’s glove and the floorboards beneath them. The tongue kept probing at him as he shook through it, the aftershocks running up his spine and down to his fingers and toes.

He would have fallen into his own cum if the Bat didn’t withdraw, wrapping strong arms around him and pulling him to lay on his side. The Bat curled around him from behind as he shivered, his hot breath tickling Joker’s hair.

It would have been sweet if Joker’s wrists weren’t still handcuffed painfully between them.

“You okay?” came the cautious rumble, and Joker rolled his eyes.

“Don’t ruin a perfect moment, Bats.”

He heard a huff of disbelief and grinned to himself, his head lolling.

They lay there in silence for a while, Joker revelling in the ache that had settled into his ass and muscles while the Bat lay unmoving behind him. He didn’t reach up to touch Joker, thankfully, and it was obviously difficult for him: he radiated concern, holding his breath as he resisted the urge to coddle the clown. But the important thing was that he was making the effort, and that warmed Joker’s acidic heart.

He breathed in deep, inhaling the Alpha scent of the Bat and pretending it was as strong as it had been mere minutes before.

“I _really_ should take you home to meet the wife sometime.”

“Oh, for—” The Batman rose to his feet, leaving Joker prone on the floor with his cock hanging out—a very familiar sensation after their first encounter all those months ago.

“Just kidding! We’re not even married.”

A grunt of frustration as the Bat paced, wiping his sticky gloves on a rag that he procured from somewhere or other. Joker was vaguely conflicted, unable to decide whether he would have preferred to have his cum wiped off on his clothes or if the stains weren’t worth it.

He rolled onto his back, letting his flaccid cock waggle in the cold air. “You gonna tuck me in, Daddy?”

A wince, and those white eyes disappeared for a moment as the Bat closed them.

Joker giggled. “I mean, I’d do it myself, but you’d have to bring yourself to uncuff me.”

The vigilante stepped forward, roughly tucking Joker back into his pants and pulling him to his feet. His joints ached as he tried to find his footing, and he took the opportunity to become a deadweight on the end of the vigilante’s arm.

“So where to next, Prince Charming?”

“Arkham.”

Joker gasped in mock outrage. “No! Thwarted again! Don’t take me back there, Bats—they’ll try to change me!”

“And do they ever succeed?”

Joker grinned. “You know they do a physical exam, right? They’ll find out you ravaged me.”

The Bat paused, his grip tightening involuntarily on Joker’s arm.

“What if they swab my nethers? They’ve done it before. I think someone mighta hocked a big ol’ loogie in there about ten minutes ago—wouldn’t want them to find _that_ , now would we? Imagine the headlines! Billionaire playboy _eats out_ with Gotham’s best-dressed psychopath!”

There was silence, and then a disgruntled sigh that seemed to rattle the Bat’s bones. The laugh that flew out of Joker was deep and triumphant, and it only grew harsher as the cuffs were removed unceremoniously, the metal spokes creaking.

“You know you could just force me to take a shower at your place.”

“Just get out of here.”

Joker rolled his wrists twice to get the feeling back into them and then clutched at his stomach. “What an imperfect gentleman! Not even gonna offer your date a ride home, Batsy?”

The vigilante rolled his eyes (third time's the charm!), and turned to leave, but Joker stopped him with a firm grip on his elbow, fishing a playing card from his inside pocket as he did so.

“Uh-uh-uhhh,” he chided, drawing the man in close. He waved the card between their faces just once for effect, showing off the perfectly-printed joker on the glossy surface, and tucked it neatly behind the fabric of the Batman’s still-visible underpants. “Don’t forget your meatshield, Dark Knight.”

It was difficult to tell in the pale, blue-ish moonlight, but Joker could have sworn some pink managed to worm its way onto the Batman’s cheek as his lips thinned. Joker dared a quick peck, feeling the warmth flush his lips, and then he was dancing away into the night, letting his echoing giggles inform the Batman of his retreat.

It was slow going, getting back to his and Harley’s joke shop, but he relished the ache in his joints and ass. That scene was a rare dish, best to be savoured. He didn’t trust that the B-man would be so eager to drop trou again while on duty anytime soon.

Bud and Lou greeted him with their usual raucous slavering, but they pulled up short when they scented the confusing mix of smells on Joker’s body. Luckily, a steak from the freezer distracted them soon enough. He wasn’t ready to cleanse himself; he could get a fair bit more mileage out of the Bat’s pseudo-Alpha aroma yet.

And Harley was nowhere to be found. Ivy _would_ be pleased.

He eased back onto his unmade bed, luxuriating in the broken springs and unwashed sheets. Harley would ask questions later about the stench, but Harley wasn’t _here_. He had hours of fun ahead of him.

And as he laughed into the bedspread, he imagined the Bat at home in his manor, biting his pillow and plugging himself with toys and thinking of Joker.

Oh, that time of the month couldn’t come around again soon enough.


End file.
